


Skybound (practice run)

by Alto_128



Category: Ace Combat, Project Wingman (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical language, Gen, Project Wingman Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alto_128/pseuds/Alto_128
Summary: PROJECT WINGMAN FICThe year is AC 431, a year before the Cascadian War of Independence. Four pilots join the Apsis Mercenary Company in their newly-formed Zenith flight. A young pilot from Oceania looking to follow in his family's footsteps. A Federation national looking to pay off her family's debts to the local triad. An Albione of minor nobility on the run for speaking out against the Feds. And a Cascadian, seeking a quicker way to relinquish the Federation's hold on his country.~~~As detailed in chapter 2, this particular version of my fic will go onto the shelf and I have a rewrite planned. Apologies for the inconvenience.
Kudos: 4





	1. The Interview

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this under the Ace Combat fandom as well as the Project Wingman fandom to try and reach a wider audience. If I'm not supposed to do this, please let me know and I'll remove the Ace Combat tag. With that aside, the universe created in Project Wingman is one of the best that I've seen for a while and it triggered a creative itch in the back of my mind. I hope you enjoy.

I sat alone in the hallway, anxiously waiting for that door to open. A simple oaken door, the only sign that I was in the right place was the black and gold insignia of a mercenary decorating it and the similarly coloured nameplate below: CYRUS "CHIEF" ATWATER: CEO OF APSIS MERCENARY COMPANY. I checked the time on my watch. Nine fifty-seven AM. Three minutes until the interview. I thumbed the manilla folder containing my resume and my uncle’s letter of recommendation.

Being from an old Oceanian family who once held a seat in the old Mercenary Cabal, me becoming a merc was nothing short of certainty. After Oceania lost the war against the Feds, our family went into hiding in the bush. Growing up on stories from my Uncle Ed about his daring aerial exploits, my cousins and I decided to become pilots when we were six years old. When we were in our early teens, his stories took a darker tone and confronted the grim reality of war, yet we were still not dissuaded. With a sigh, my uncle simply told us to follow what we felt was right and never compromise our morals for money even if it meant disobeying orders. When we were sixteen and learning to fly, he asked us if we still wanted to become fighter pilots. Eagerly nodding our heads, he gave us a list of names of old comrades-in-arms that had started their own small-scale companies. ‘Get yourself hired by them first,’ he had said, ‘They’re good men.'

Four years later, my cousins had all changed their minds and decided to fly commercial or only recreationally. But not me – I still wanted to become a fighter ace. And so, I sat here outside of this office, looking to get hired into the Apsis company. Suddenly, the door swung open and stirred me out of my thoughts. 

‘You’re one of the prospective recruits, I take it?’ came a rich baritone voice as a tall, broad-shouldered man leant out of the doorway. He looked me in the eye. He seemed to be in his early to mid-forties – just a hint of age such as faint creases on his brow or the odd streak of grey in his black hair – but the fire in his keen eyes revealed his identity as an experienced mercenary. 

‘Yes,’ I replied. A hint of hesitation before my response belied my nervousness that I tried to mask with confidence. ‘My name is-’

‘Save it for the interview, kid. Come in.’ 

I followed him into the office. It was a small and modest room, seemingly unbefitting of the wealthy CEO of a mercenary company. It was sparsely decorated with only the odd picture frame or model aircraft on the drawers and cabinets. He sat down at his simple wooden desk and picked up a pen, motioning for me to sit opposite to him. 

‘Got your papers?’ he asked, idly twirling his pen between his fingers. 

‘Yes,’ I replied handing over the folder. I waited with baited breath as the CEO read through it. He hummed thoughtfully before glancing back up.

‘So, Nathan Kelly. You’re Boomerang's son and Bushranger’s nephew, huh?’ he asked. It took me a second to remember that that they were the callsigns of Pa and Uncle Ed. Pa got that alias from his hobby of woodworking and crafting said projectiles, and Ed got that alias by simply sharing his name with a legendary outlaw in an era long gone.

‘Yes. Uncle Ed told me to come to you if you had a vacancy if I wanted to be a merc. Said something about you guys being men of honour,’ I answered.

‘Did he now? Sounds just like him. By the way, you can call me Chief. It’s my callsign after all.’ He gave a low chuckle. ‘Alright kid. Tell me about yourself. Judging from your papers, you’re a pretty good pilot in your own right. Learned to fly at sixteen and joined a local aerobatics group at eighteen. Care to tell me more?’

‘Yes,’ I nodded, recalling my time flying for the Aether Aerobatics Team. ‘I figured that it would be good flight experience. Getting used to g-forces, learning aerobatics and flight formations and all that stuff. I performed in a few local airshows as "Aether Four", if that amounts to anything.’ 

‘I see.’ Chief laced his fingers and leant forward onto the desk. He stared at me critically, as if reading into my mind through my eyes. ‘Tell me why you want to join us. Is it for the money? Fame and glory? The thrill of it all?’

I closed my eyes for a moment and thought of my answer. While a small part in me wanted to say yes to everything that was just said, I searched for a deeper answer. I thought of Pa and Uncle Ed fighting in the Oceanian war. Pa’s sacrifice for our freedom that was all for naught. I thought of Grandpa investing in a MG-21, starting our business and joining the Cabal. The Kelly family had been in Oceania for a long time, even before the Calamity four hundred years ago. Back when the land was called Australia. For all we knew, we might actually be related to the famed bushranger that was Uncle Ed’s namesake. But in this era, our family was a family of mercenaries, and I intended to carry that legacy.

‘I wish to join Apsis to carry on my family’s legacy, sir,’ I said. Chief’s stone face broke into a smile.

‘You really are your father’s son,’ he said, offering me his hand. ‘Welcome aboard, Nathan. You’ll be joining our new Zenith flight as "Zenith Three" until they give you a tacname. If you’re lucky, perhaps your flight lead will let you pick your plane from the four new ones we bought. You won’t go on any combat missions until we fill out the rest of the squadron, so get familiar with your aircraft and its systems.’

I returned his smile and shook his hand. It honestly felt rather surreal that I got the job this easily. Perhaps it was my father and uncle’s relation to him, or perhaps he saw some unknown potential in me. Either way, I was glad I got the job. I left the office with a grin and headed for the hangars, eager to meet my flight lead and to see my new aircraft.


	2. Sorry!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes

I had posted the first chapter without really planning out a cohesive story beyond 'oh look it's the others in the squadron and their backstories', and I would like to restart this from the very beginning, this time much better planned. I won't delete this first chapter, but it's just an FYI. The restarted fic will still use the name 'Skybound' since I quite like it to be honest. Apologies for the inconvenience, everyone.


End file.
